


Replaced

by shyfoxes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura - Freeform, Angst and Humor, Body Pillows, Coran - Freeform, Denial of Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Garrison Trio Shenanigans, Gen, Hinted Mutual Pining, Insecurities, Jealousy, Langst, Love Confessions, M/M, Pidge - Freeform, Pining Lance (Voltron), Shiro - Freeform, Team as Family, dakimakuras, hunk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9555188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyfoxes/pseuds/shyfoxes
Summary: “Keith was the biggest traitor of them all.”Or the one where Keith is Petty™ and Lance deals with jealousy.





	

 It was all Lance’s fault. 

No matter how much he had wanted to believe otherwise, it really was his own fault. Otherwise he might still be sitting in his spot next to Keith at the dining table, pretending that the blandness of this space cereal was actually just a great value knock off of honey nut cheerios.

But, no, instead he was glaring across the table _at_ Keith, who was pretending rather obviously that he didn’t notice Lance, or that he didn’t have his arm casually slung along the back of Lance’s chair. 

Where Lance _definitely, certainly, completely_  was not sitting, because Lance’s chair was currently being occupied by a goddamn dakimakura of himself.

 

-

 

Lance had been the first to complain. He and Hunk were usually neck and neck for resident complainers (and Shiro was probably third place with his own passive-aggressiveness), but Lance had had to put his foot down.

 Three space weeks of fighting, liberating, alliances, then fighting, and more fighting, and even more fighting had been enough. Being defenders of the universe meant that until Zarkon and the Galra were properly taken down, there would not be any end to skirmishes in the near future.

 Lance had understood that. He really had. But after a while, when they could finally breathe and sit back on the couch in the common room, Lance had ditched everyone to go and unwind. A little mud mask and soak, he had said, would do him some good.

 Only, when Lance had decided to head to the communal bathhouse instead of soaking up in his little tub (legs too long to be comfy), and had gathered his bath tray together and was settling down into the hot, soothing water, he had made a horrible discovery.

 Spreading out like a starfish and letting himself float for a bit, Lance let his hair get soaked. His entire body seemed to sigh happily when he let the hot water flow over him. Floating back towards the edge, Lance reached into his bathing tray and pulled out the tube for his face mask. Lance hummed, flicking back the cap and stretching out the palm of his other hand.

 He had it all down pat. He would put a mask on, stay in the water until he was almost pruny, and use that new foot scrub he picked up a month ago. Hunk would probably pop by with a doggie bag from dinner. The two of them would probably shoot the breeze. Then Lance was going to sleep the entire day away.

 No galra, no fighting, no problem.

 Lance squeezed the bottle. It decompressed in his hand but nothing hit his palm. He squeezed again, then a third time. He rolled the top part down until it hit the plastic cap. Still nothing. Lance tossed it aside and opened the foot scrub. A measly dollop was left, barely enough to even go on his pinky toe. He shook the contents of his shampoo, conditioner, everything else in the tray.

  _Empty_.

 Lance submerged under the bath water and yelled.

 

 -

 

 Lance stomped his way into the common room, hair still soaking wet and only hastily dried off. The others looked up at him, brows raised. Lance frowned, squaring each of them up. He got a good look at each of them.

 “Which one of you has been using my stuff?” Lance said. “Fess up.”

 They all looked at each other, then they looked at Lance. Lance squinted. He didn’t grow up in a big family for nothing. He could already hear the lie before anyone had even started. The nervous body language was obvious.

 “None of use your stuff, Lance, you know that,” Shiro, grade A liar, said.

 Why did his face look so soft and even toned? They had spent a week and a half on a planet with two suns. Lance had been insistent on stashing bottles of sunscreen on him and slathering the others down. Call it a throwback to when he and his siblings would go to the beach and he had had to wrangle unhappy, squirmy kids down to put some on. It had only barely helped. Even Lance had not come out unscathed then with a burn or two, and uneven marks. Deception.

 “Yeah, Lance. You have all of your shampoos and conditioners listed alphabetically. Wouldn’t you notice?” Hunk added in.

 Hunk’s hair was glossy. Hadn’t he been neck deep in oil and muck not two days prior when they had to go slumming it underground to create an alternate pathway for the refugees on Vargax Six? Why did Hunk look like a hair commercial model? Betrayal.

 “I don’t even understand what half your face masks even _do_ ,” Pidge said. “What’s the difference between the avocado one and the volcanic one?”

 Where were Pidge’s dark circles, pray tell? Her brother’s glasses may be able to hide a lot. But Lance knew for a fact that Pidge had panda eyes from the last few weeks from sitting in Green, in the dark, scrolling through miles of information. Lance had, after all, been the one to frequently go and drag her out. Treason.

 “Don’t blame us for you not noticing they were basically done,” Keith huffed.

 Keith’s face was clear. _Clear_ . The other boy had had two twin zits on his jaw and another by his nose for nearly a month. Now they were just _gone_ . His entire face looked like it was glowing. _Fraud_.

 Lance’s jaw dropped in horror.

 Lance turned to Coran and Allura, noting the way the Princess’s nails didn’t look bitten and chipped, and that a few of the cuts and bruises both had sustained in the last two head-on attacks with galran battle cruisers were almost completely gone. Both Alteans looked as if they had probably gotten another good ten thousand years of sleep. They didn’t offer him any explanation either. Though they did try and curl away from his gaze.

 Lance stomped a foot, indignant.

 “We are stopping at the nearest market hub _tomorrow_!” He said, and turned to leave.

 Behind him he heard Hunk exhale loudly. _“I told you he would notice!”_

 

-

 

The market hub Allura and Coran had chosen was built into the remnants of a partially destroyed moon. The moon itself had been blasted (more than likely by the Galra) into a permanent crescent shape. From then on, over the years, stalls and buildings had started to crop up until it had become of the most popular dock and trade hubs in that part of the galaxy. Most Galra let it run itself without trouble, unless they felt they needed to posture every now and then for effect. (A very brief retreat from Zarkon was worth a turned head or two).

Lance had been impressed.

For all their adventures in the various space malls, the trade hub had been reminded Lance a bit of home. Species of all walks bustling and haggling, and the streets filled to the brim with excited people, yelling or jammed before shops and stalls. Hunk grabbed Lance by the back of his jacket, an old habit from childhood. Pidge had been jostled once by an alien with six arms, one giant horn, and a load of bags in their arms. Lance had caught her and reeled Pidge in out of reflex. He pulled her in front of him with his hands on her small shoulders, still looking around in wonder.

“This place is awesome!” Lance said. “Where do we start first? Do we split up? I want to see _everything._ ”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. We only have about an hour and a half on this planet and we’re kind of a magnet for trouble,” Shiro said “Let’s just work our way around together.”

“You can’t be serious, Shiro. Last time we went to a mall, Keith spent a whole thirty-five minutes just staring at _knives_. Pidge nearly got arrested by the mall cop for haggling,” Lance started, listing things off on his fingers, “and Hunk yelled at this guy at the food court for not using seasoning! I didn’t even get to see if there was a space bath and body.” Lance threw his hands up.

Pidge fell heavily back against him, a frown on her face as she got ready to protest. Lance instinctively brought his hands up to rest on her cheeks and squished them.

Shiro flicked him behind the ear, then said, “Just like home, right?” Lance grumbled under his breath. “Everyone buddy up.”

Pidge grabbed one of Lance’s hands and Hunk grabbed the other, then he took one of Keith’s hand. Shiro pulled up the rear. Lance let his head roll on his neck, groaning, and shuffled awkwardly between Hunk and Pidge as the five of them filed through the crowds. Lance looped his arm around Pidge’s shoulders. He also squeezed Hunk’s hand when he felt him tremble, an almost silent whimper working its way out, probably too overwhelmed at times by the crowds and the space amounts of space agitating his anxiety. Lance chanced a look behind him at Keith. Shiro had a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. Lance let himself relax.

 They wandered a while, gazing over at the booths and stalls. A couple times they passed in and out of a small building or two. Hunk and Lance had gotten what appeared to be matching mood crystal bracelets. A different marching set was bought for Coran and Allura. Pidge fished out what looked to be a used game for her new console system.

 “They didn’t even release this version back home!” Pidge cried. “Hunk we _have_ to play.”

 Not too far away Keith was slipping something over his gloves, flexing his fingers. It looked kind of like brass knuckles until a blade swung out from the top. Keith grinned.

 “Cool,” He mumbled.  

 “Put it back,” Shiro said, exasperated.

 Keith frowned and hiked up the collar of his jacket until it covered his ear. “I hate this family,” he said.

 It had continued on like that for the next couple stalls. Pidge and Hunk would fish out interesting tech, Lance would add to his new growing pile of hair and skin care products, while Keith tried to buy what looked like giant scimitars.

 A couple times Shiro had to shoo them away, because, no, he was not going to let them get a disco ball and hook it up in the common room. Nor was he going to let them get what looked like jousting equipment. (Yet he had pouted when he had gotten yelled at for joking about a “relaxing space recliner” that looked like something from a torture chamber.)

 Then, Lance had spotted it. He had only glanced at it initially. But there was no way he wasn’t going to recognize his own face even from across a stream of strange alien bodies and stuffed into a box. The stall had bright, bubbly alien writing that Lance couldn’t understand. But the merchandise was easy enough to know. The smirk, the brown skin, and the thumb and index finger framing his face as he lounged languidly on what was probably a bed in his blue paladin armor.

 Lance squinted as realization hit him.

 It was a body pillow of himself. Next to it he could see Hunk’s sheepish face peeking out, and Keith’’s own grumpy expression just barely passing over the edge of the box. Behind them he could guess were Shiro’s.

 Lance flung his hand back and grabbed onto Shiro’s arm. A wide, goofy grin spread across his face instantly as he tugged on their leader’s arm and dragged them all in a line through a group of aliens. Lance only barely missed Shiro’s grab at his hood as he yanked a pillow out from the box. He held it against his hip, smirking.

 “Check out this handsome devil,” Lance said. “I wonder who this could be?”

 “Dude, no way, is that what I think it is?” Hunk exclaimed, laughing. “Oh my god they have one of each of us. Look at the Shiro one!”

 Hunk pulled it out and presented it to the group. Shiro had one hand behind his head, and the other flung across his stomach. The other paladins made a collective, “oooh” sound, pointing at the strangely sultry look the pillow had.

 “Put that back,” Shiro sputtered.

 “Look at this Keith one, guys,” Pidge cackled, holding Keith’s pillow up over her head. “They even have his arms crossed.”

 “Like looking into a mirror, right, Mullet?” Lance teased, taking the pillow from Pidge. He waved a hand to Pidge and asked her to snap a picture of the two of them. “Quick gimme the Hunk one!”

 “I don’t look like that at all,” Keith retorted, stopping himself midway from re-crossing his arms.

 Lance puckered up, pretending to kiss the Hunk and Keith pillows each for the pictures, not noticing how Keith had looked away. The tips of his ears burned as he dug his fingers into a pillow to stop himself from crossing his arms. Lance let the Keith pillow flop around, a gentle grin passing across his face. To the side, Keith was holding a Lance pillow arms length, a thoughtful look on his face.

 “Can’t say I don’t kind of like this Keith better. He’s so much less sharp and pointy,” Lance joked. “Pillow Hunk isn’t as cuddly though.”

 “Awh, dude, that’s so sweet. Gotta say though, pillow you doesn’t stab me in the side with those bony elbows,” Hunk teased.

 Lance placed a hand to his chest, mock offended. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing!”

 Shiro reminded them they had only a few minutes left. Lance gathered up one pillow each of the paladins and dropped them on the counter. Then, he plucked the other Lance one out of Keith’s hands, waving off his question of why he needed two of himself. Shouldn’t it have been obvious?

 “I’ll take all of these, thanks” Was all Lance said, shoving the GAC in the seller’s claws.

 “What are you even going to do with these?” Hunk asked, carrying some of the pillows for Lance.

 Lance shrugged. “I’m sure something will come up.”

 

-

 

Boy did it.

 

-

 

In hindsight, Lance had probably deserved this.

Maybe.

But it was also Keith’s fault, so that should be worth noting. None of their competitions were one-sided, and Keith was definitely at as much fault as Lance was.

In further hindsight, Lance should have known that games like Monopoly, Uno, and Mario Kart (or whatever this alien version actually was) were relationship breakers even in the depths of space.

Lance and Keith had gotten their turn on the game console this time around. Keith had raised his brow, looking at Lance blankly when he’d brought the body pillows of each of them to lounge on as they played.

 “Scared to lose, Keithy?” Lance said, grinning impishly.

 “If you drive as bad as you fly then I have nothing to worry about,” Keith grinned back.

 “Oh it’s on! Every man for himself!”

 The battle had been tough. The strange runes counted down tick by tick the beeping sounding off as Keith and Lance’s thumbs flexed over the controller, impatient. Lance could hear Keith’s sharp inhale. Lance’s bit down into his lower lip.

 “Go!” The game exclaimed.

 The tires screeches inside the game, both of their racers taking off. They wove through the other competitors, with Lance only nicking one other racing ship as he kept pace with Keith. They rounded the corner of a kinetic spring, curves getting tighter and tighter as they traveled up. The road ended, forcing all the racers to go flying, passing through the crystallizing water before landing heavily on the other side.

 Lance and Keith’s racers took off, zigzagging across a steadily deteriorating terrain. A couple times each of their cars had been knocked off course. In the case of the other racers, completely off track all together. Lance jammed his thumb down hard on the controller. Beside him Keith cursed under his breath.

 The overhead flashing lights of the finish light blared, a picture of their racers lighting up as the game screamed, “Who will win?”

 Lance had managed to pull ahead by the skin of his teeth, the finish line so, so close. Something flashed on Keith’s side of the screen, reminding Lance of the lions when a new weapon had been unlocked. Lance could feel himself pale when Keith clicked a button a what could only described as a glorified blue shell flashed with the words, _“Use?”_

 “Don’t you dare, Keith,” Lance hissed. He had grown up with enough siblings to know threats like that were empty. The people closest to you were _always traitors._

 Keith’s finger skimmed the button that would have accepted it, a slow evil grin appearing on his face. Lance jammed harder on the knob as if it would make his racer go faster; it didn’t. Keith hummed, right under Lance’s tail, almost enough to bounce his back thrusters.

 “What was that, Lance? I can’t hear you,” Keith said.

 “You damn well can, you butt!” Lance groused. “Don’t you dare!”

 Keith’s fingers dipped the button down, not enough for it to register but enough for Lance to nearly chew through his lip.

 Just ten feet from the finish line the ground began to crumble, splitting in two as a massive many armed creature clawed its way out, double jaws snapping. A single, translucent ramp appeared as the beast screeched. Keith and Lance’s racers slammed together fighting to get to the ramp first as they sped towards the ramp, a metal on metal screech sounding.

 Lance only  just barely managed to pull ahead, soaring over the beast’s mouths, Keith hot on his tail. Lance’s mouth dropped open, a whoop making its way out as he watched his racer descending back to the ground.

 Then it was viciously knocked off course and Keith’s red racer slid smoothly across the finish line. Lance’s puttered over after, then whatever other racer was still functioning.

 Eyes bugging, Lance leapt to his feet and slammed the controller down. He pointed a long finger at Keith, mouth scrunched up.

 “I have never in my life seen such underhanded bullshit!” Lance cried.

 Keith only grinned, leaning back on his hands. The screen behind him showed an automated congratulatory scene of Keith’s racer and the words “WINNER” flashing. Keith shrugged.

 “Every man for himself,” Keith reminded. “I only did what was necessary to win.”

 “No, you _cheated_. There’s a difference!” Lance exclaimed. “I can’t believe I live with a cheater.”

 Keith rolled his eyes. “Way to take things out of proportion. I won, you lost. Accept it.”

 “No way, nuh uh. This is just like back at the Garrison! You can’t stand to see me get ahead, ever!” Lance blurted. Only just barely did he realize what he’d said. Too little too late.

 Keith scowled, rising to his feet, eyes dark. Lance forced himself not to swallow out of nervousness, meeting Keith’s gaze head on. He watched Keith’s hands clench and had the unbidden urge to reach over and try and pry them open. Keith had clenched his hands too tight once and fingers turned white with stress. Lance had been getting that feeling a lot lately…

 “Are you ever going to let that go?” Keith said. “We got ranked based on skill. I was just better than you. That’s it.”

 Lance’s mouth went into a flat line. A nasty little thing twinged inside of him, a voice like Hunk’s in the back of his mind reminding him to let it go, that it wasn’t worth it. Keith wasn’t _wrong_ but a loud part of him was yelling that he should defend himself. How could Keith ever know how hard Lance worked when he was at the Garrison, eyes always trained ahead, always at the top with no care for who trailed after him.

 “Still a high and mighty asshole, then. Got it,” Lance seethed. “Glad you could take time out of your busy schedule of being _too cool_ to play with mere mortals like me in a kid’s game.”

“What the hell are you talking about? _You_ asked me to play with you!” Keith said.

Lance felt an ache in him, screaming to just let it go, to apologize and joke it off. Things would be a little weird but they would bounce back. But a more stubborn part of him was still yelling, impulses firing rapidly. Lance’s tongue was dry as he gazed back at Keith, furious and defensive, pretty mouth in a deep frown, and thick brows pulled down over purple eyes.

Lance’s mouth betrayed the rest of him.

“Well I guess it was a mistake then. I don’t even know why I bother trying to be your friend. You are literally the worst person to be around,” Lance said.

A disgusting feeling like sickness and phlegm lodged at the base of his throat. Lance wondered if that was what a lie tasted like. Keith’s eyes widened, an unmistaken look of hurt flashing for a brief moment before Keith was regrouping back into fury, like he alway did. Lance felt his stomach churn.

"Well, you know what?” Keith replied. He looked around the room and zeroed in on one of the Lance body pillows. He grabbed it, shaking it.  “This is the only Lance I’m going to have anything to do with!”

 “What?? You can’t do that!” Lance exclaimed, making to grab the pillow back.

 “The hell I can’t!” Keith said, swinging the pillow to smack Lance in the face.

 Lance staggered sideways, knees bumping the side of the bed. Grabbing onto the nearest pillow - Shiro’s by the looks of it - and hit Keith back. Keith growled and slammed the pillow in his face again. When Lance clipped him on the ear, Keith rushed at him head on, pillow barricaded against his arm like a shield. Lance only had a few seconds to hide behind his own as they both toppled to the floor then rolled apart, groaning.

 They didn’t move, only breathed loudly. Lance ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, trying to will some words out. Beside him Keith was digging his fingers into Lance pillow’s face but not looking at him.

 “Keith -”

 “Unless you’re made of polyester and cotton, I don’t want to hear it.” Then Keith sat up and slung the pillow under his arm and stormed out of the living room.

 Lance laid there for a time just staring at the door, listening to Keith’s stomping away. Lance stood up slowly, pillow loosely dangling from his hand. He whirled himself around in a circle, yelling out in frustration until he was collapsing sideways on the couch. He turned his head to see Keith pillow’s cool expression. Lance buried his face against the image’s shoulder and sighed.

 

-

 

Lance’s first mistake was not taking Keith seriously enough about what he’d said the night prior.

Sure, Keith was usually a guy of his word. A little too much of his word if he was being serious. If Keith said he was going to do something, it didn’t mean in an hour, the next day, or the next week. He meant right now, at that moment.

But that didn’t mean he was going to seriously go through with this whole “I’m-going-to-only-talk-to-a-body-pillow-of-you” thing, right? That was too ridiculous for Keith. He hadn’t even wanted to wear the party hats Pidge and Lance had made celebrating Coran’s latest birthday a few weeks back.

 So when Lance wandered into the dining room for breakfast, looking a little more ragged than he wanted to admit, he had to pause because not only was Keith there, but so was the _goddamn Lance body pillow_.

 Lance raised an open palm in questioning, turning towards Hunk and Pidge, the wordless question passing between them. All he had gotten was a shrug from Hunk and an impish grin from Pidge. Even Shiro didn’t seem bothered and only raised his eyebrows at Lance as if wondering why he wasn’t already sitting down to eat.

 Keith said nothing, eyes trained precisely in front of him, eating methodically. The pillow grinned back at Lance, unnaturally lounging upright in the chair and bent a little to seem as if it was sitting. Lance scowled.

 “Lance, what are you doing just standing there? Aren’t you hungry?” Allura said, making her way in. She took a seat at the head of the table, Shiro to her right.

 Did no one see anything wrong?

 “I - Of course,” Lance said quickly, flustering. He usually sat next to Keith out of habit; he glared his way for good measure as he sat down on Hunk’s empty other side.

 The usual breakfast chatter went on, with Coran looking mildly offended when Hunk said they should order in space take-out more, or Pidge trying to steal some food from Lance’s plate from over Hunk’s arms where she was blocked. Lance swatted her hand away, squawking.

 “Hey, Shiro, can you pass the biscuits?” Lance asked.

 Shiro nodded, fork hanging from his mouth, and motioned with the bowl towards Keith. Keith cocked his head to the side, some crumbs on his cheeks.

 “You mind, Keith?” Shiro added.

 Keith shrugged, taking it from him and then placed it down in front of the pillow.

 “There you go, Lance,” Keith said.

 Lance’s jaw dropped, hands coming up in disbelief. Pidge snorted, grinning shamelessly when Shiro shot her a look. Lance scrunched his nose, trying to catch Keith’s eye.

 “Uhm, hello, I’m over here!” Lance said. “Castleship to Keith!”

 “Did you guys hear something? What about you, Lance?” Keith said, voice deliberately soft and inquisitive. He let his eyes flicker towards real Lance a moment before he was furrowing his brows, considering something. “Maybe a ghost?” He nudged pillow-Lance with his elbow. “Don’t worry, buddy, I’ve got your back.”

 “Don’t joke so casually about ghosts, you butt! My mother always warned me about them!” Lance exclaimed.

 Keith hooked his arms around the pillow, not unlike Hunk would do, patting its side. Hunk nabbed his sausage, breaking it in half for himself and Pidge, unnoticed. Lance’s mouth twisted into a massive frown.

 “Just eat your biscuits, Lance,” Keith said.

 Lance angrily devoured his green eggs.

 

-

 

The next time Lance had encountered Keith and the pillow, Keith was sitting down in the living room. He was eating a bowl of something in his lap, the pillow seated next to him. The room was dark, some alien conspiracy documentary about humans and Earth playing on the screen. A strange creature that was probably meant to look like a blurry black and white picture of a human flashed across the screen with a “are they real?” flashing across.

Lance came around the couch, eyebrow raising slowly.  Keith didn’t look at him. In the partial light of the tv, Lance let his eyes rove over Keith’s face, his nose, his cheeks and jaw, and his eyelashes. He stopped a little too long on his mouth, parted slightly in question when something flashed on screen.

It wasn’t until Pidge came into the room, a bowl of whatever it was Keith was eating also in her hands that Lance got his answer. Glancing up at him Pidge grinned wryly. She deliberately crashed against him as she passed.

 “How’s _Lance_ enjoying the documentary, Keith?” Pidge asked sweetly, then sat down on the other side of the pillow.

Keith shrugged. “He seems to like it. His favorite part is the narrator trying to make sense of earth memes.”

“I never thought I’d see the day aliens would try to make sense of spongebob,” Pidge snickered.

Lance was surprised to realize that that _would_ be his favorite part of the documentary - if he was actually watching it with Keith. A warmth bloomed in Lance’s chest. The fact that Keith had come to know him so well was pretty flattering.

Then, Keith put his arm on the back of the couch behind the pillow. The pillow fell just a little bit against Keith’s side. It was if the eyes were peeking around the other boy right at him. Lance scowled and turned on his heel to angrily stomp out of the room.

 

-

 

 

Anyone who said Keith wasn’t in fact one of the pettiest members of the team  was dead wrong.

At half-past half-dead in space, Lance had woken up to get himself a cup of what probably passed for tea in the castle-ship. The light to the kitchen was on and lo and behold there was Keith and the pillow. The pillow was seated in a chair as Keith flitted took the kettle from the stove and went to get a cup. He must have spotted Lance because he suddenly pulled out two cups.

Lance cautiously walked around him, eyeing his teammate as he set a cup down for himself and the pillow. Humming, Keith poured out the hot water into each and then added the little bags of space into them. He sweetened them as well.

Keith’s pettiness could probably be summed up best by Keith loudly telling the pillow, “Oh, you remember our bonding moment, Lance? That’s great, buddy!”.

Lance’s mouth dropped out, nearly dropping his cup as well. Keith merely sipped his tea, taking the pillow and his cup with him. Lance watched them go, peeved.

It was only a few moments later that he realized Keith had left the other cup on the table, untouched. Cradling it between his hands, Lance made his way back to his room.

 

-

 

The damn pillow was even there when Keith was training by himself. Lance wandered by, eyes gluing themselves to Keith as he was passing by. He stopped, watching Keith summon his sword and call for Training Sequence 4. Lance caught sight of the pillow at the corner of his eye. It was seated just off to the side as a gladiator bot descended from the sky and Keith assumed stance.

 Lance crept in, keeping a wide berth around the arena to sit by the pillow, knees drawn up to his chest.

 The bot swung down with Keith only barely managing a block. He kicked it away and reassumed his stance. He pivoted on his foot before charging it, swinging wide so that the bot stumbled then slicing down. The bot only barely had a chance to bring its staff up in a solid block. Lance could see the way Keith’s biceps strained in its sleeves, Keith’s feet digging down as he tried to push the bot back. Their hold broke, sending Keith skittering back.

 Lance held his breath. Keith wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. The bot waited, then charged. The went too fast after that, strike after strike, with Keith either advancing o being forced to go defensive. He rolled, falling to one knee. Then Keith was dashing forward again. He caught the bot in another square off, forcing it to begin to kneel.

 Keith’s eyes flickered up at Lance, purple and dark, and boring straight into him. An expression Lance couldn’t decipher rose up on his face. Lance dug his fingers into his jeans. For the briefest of seconds Keith had let up, and then the bot was pushing back. Keith growled.

 The bot whipped its staff forward, heading straight for Keith head on.

 “Keith -!” Lance yelled.

 Keith swung his sword out, off-setting the bot, Then he was moving forward, jabbing his foot against its chest, down, until it was on its knees, and Keith was slicing into its chest.

Lance exhaled.

The bot powered down, lifeless.

 _Training Sequence 4 Complete,”_ The room said. _“Continue?”_

 “End training sequence,” Keith said, out of breath.

 Keith exhaled, shoulders sagging. His bayard deactivated. Taking the hem of his shirt in his hand, Keith pulled it up and wiped at his face. Lance choked, eyes falling to the taut skin on display, and rising to his feet as Keith made his way over. He picked up the water bottle that had been by the pillow. He held it out to Keith.

 “Dude, that was - that was pretty cool,” Lance said.

 Keith hummed, bending to take the pillow.

 “Pretty cool, right, buddy?” Keith said, addressing the pillow. “That last move was from that Darulax general we encountered two missions ago. You suggested I try that move.”

 Lance paused. Had he? Darulax had been an entirely draining mission. Half of it was spent doing trails akin to the Olympics in a show of good sport to convince the people as to the might of the Paladins as fellow warriors. The last event had been a friendly spar with the head general. Shiro had been the one to fight him, coming to an impressive draw. The Darulax general had pulled off more than one dramatic move, which Lance couldn’t shut up about. He might have even nudged Keith that day telling him that he should take some pointers.

 Oh, he _had_. Lance held the water bottle awkwardly as Keith gathered the pillow up under his arm. He didn’t realize Keith paid so much attention to what he had to say.

 “Keith, hang on, you -” Lance started.

 Keith didn’t say anything, a slanted look passing his way. He made to turn away before he was reaching back and taking the water from Lance and walking away. When the doors closed, Lance knocked his head back against the wall with a groan.

 

-

 

“What’s that pillow even have that I don’t have?” Lance said, seething. He shifted himself to settle better between Hunk’s legs, leaning so that his head rested a bit on Pidge’s thigh. “It’s not even realistic!”

 Pidge rolled her eyes from where she was sitting on Hunk’s tummy, thumbs rapidly working the game controller. Hunk made a squawking noise, reclining on the couch and raising his arms up as if it would give his controller the advantage. Pidge hissed under her breath when Hunk’s character nearly knocked her out of the circle.

 “No fair, Hunk!” Pidge said.

 “I don’t know man, I think it’s pretty realistic. Whoever did it really captured a good side of you,” Hunk said. “Pidge, what the heck!”

 “Ha!”

 “Are you sure?” Lance said, squinting. “Because it seems wrong to me. The smile isn’t handsome enough. The pose isn’t even that good. And I feel like they drew my eyebrows wrong!”

 “You’re only saying that because Keith’s been getting all buddy-buddy with it,” Pidge pointed out. She made a dying noise when she nearly toppled off the edge, only just managing to use her rush to regain her character’s footing.

 Both Hunk and Pidge clacked loudly on the controllers.

 “Well...yeah,” Lance found himself admitting. “When has he ever wanted to spend that much time with me? But give the guy a pillow with my face on it and suddenly he’s got all the time in the world?”

 “Keith has always had time for you,” Pidge continued. She cackled a laugh when Hunk’s attack missed. “You’ve just been too preoccupied with one-upping him to notice.”

 “Pidge’s right. You learned to do that overhang from Keith, didn’t you? If he hadn’t challenged you during training that one time, you would probably still have trouble threading the needle.”

 “I would have gotten it eventually!” Lance yelped. “But, yeah, sure. Keith _did_ help. Sorta.”

 Lance let his face fall back against Pidge’s thigh as he turned over onto his stomach. Hunk’s legs came up into a bend, trapping him between them. Hunk rocked the three of them a bit, jostling Pidge into nearly falling off until Lance was patting his belly and he stopped. He mumbled a muffled thank you to his friend.

 “Dude. You’re just jealous,” Hunk finally said. “The sooner you admit it and figure out _why_ , the better. Do some soul-searching or something.”

 “Yeah, what Hunk said. Now, you playing winner or are you gonna keep whining?” Pidge added.

 Lance’s head shot up, a grin spreading on his face. Pidge tapped the top of his head with her controller, smiling.

 “When have I ever turned down a challenge?” Lance quipped.

 

-

 

Lance didn’t have to do much soul-searching at all, as it seemed because the entire universe came to a startling halt when he wandered into the star-map room.

It had been his go-to place to think and contemplate where he and Keith were falling away from each other. Mostly by his own doing, Lance had backed himself into a corner concerning Keith.

It was true, he reasoned on his walk there, he really was jealous of Keith. His own insecurities had driven a wedge between them. It had been all too easy to fall into old patterns and blame Keith for his own failings. But he had learned better since then, he knew it. His “failings” just meant that skills he was weak with needed to be cultivated a little more, if only a little slower than Lance had wanted.

 Lance was nothing if not a hard worker and a relentless pursuer when something really interested him. Even with Iverson’s voice echoing in his brain how he hadn’t gotten their by skill, the results in his battles alongside his teammates, and the impromptu pod trainings showed clearly otherwise. He just never did well with negative people breathing down his neck, assuming he was a lost cause.

There was more to his issue with Keith than just old wounds from the Garrison, Lance realized. Much more. But a little bit of perusing the star-map and letting himself breathe alone would help him, he figured.

Then he had walked into the star-map room and spotted a lone figure curled up on the floor. It was Keith, his jacket laid across his shoulders like a makeshift blanket and the body pillow pressed against Keith’s chest, under his chin. Keith’s head was nestled on it, an arm thrown over it. His nose rested right by his image’s cheek.

He looked peaceful, Lance noticed. All tension and fire mellowed as Keith’s breaths rose and fell steadily. His hair fell so softly across his face, lips parted.

Lance felt sick. He could only stare at the image’s eyes peeking past Keith’s arm, at Keith surrounded by artificial holograms of a star system, and simulated comets whizzing by. He wanted to kneel down and brush his hair aside. He wanted to feel Keith’s gloves against his cheek as he cradled Lance’s face. The star-map shifted to a new galaxy, a cluster of stars nearly haloing Keith.

Oh. Keith was beautiful.

He spotted the pillow’s eyes again, insides running cold.

 _‘Why not me?’_ Lance suddenly thought.

He froze.

Lance swallowed down that nasty phlegm that was building in his throat, stomach turning sour. He turned on his heels and fled.

 

-

 

Let it also be known that Lance didn’t back down from a challenge.

Even if that challenge was against a goddamn body pillow of himself.

Lance had spent a good portion of the night curled up in his bed, clutching Hunk’s body pillow and burying his face between Keith and Shiro’s. Allura, Coran, Lance and Pidge’s looked on blissfully from the side. He sniffled, staring out into the darkness, sheets pulled up over his head.

He let his thoughts jumble loudly in his head. They crashed together at lightspeed. Lance couldn’t tell where one began and ended, but each involved Keith.

Keith’s eyes, hands, his ridiculous biker gloves and outdated hair, that small smile of his, and the way he look of him as he slept. The angry expression the day they fought, and the gentle voice he used when he spoke to the pillow. Lance wondering why he couldn’t be the one curled up with Keith.

Ah.

Lance slowly sat up, sheet falling away.

“I like Keith,” Lance said quietly to himself. His face burned. He repeated it, “I like- _like_ Keith.”

Lance’s heart thumped loudly making his eardrums pulse.

But how long? Lance wondered. He had always had his eyes on Keith since he'd first seen him. He'd been entranced the first time he'd seen him nearly beat out Shiro’s scores on the simulator. Lance would still remember how hard his chest has burned, the sweatiness of his hands when he'd come across Keith one night after sneaking out to scope out local hangouts but wound up on top of the dorms to map out constellations, still wracked with homesickness.  He had seen Keith, long hair windswept and purple eyes bright even in the darkness from across the roof tops.

 _‘I want him to notice me’_ had been Lance’s first thought. _‘I want to stand next to him.’_

Lance buried his face in his hands. That long, huh?

He looked down at Hunk pillow’s sheepish expression. He smiled just as sheepishly.

“I figured it out, buddy. I - like Keith,” Lance said.

It felt a little risky being just one wall away from Keith with this new found knowledge, breathing it out loud in his room. Lance grinned. His chest felt light. Lance laughed a little wetly, pressing his forehead to the Keith pillow’s own.

“I like that stupid mullet and those stupid gloves and pouty attitude,” Lance whispered. “I can’t believe this.”

He opened his eyes to look at the cool expression of Keith's pillow. He exhaled through his nose loudly, having decided.

“I’m not losing to a pillow,” Lance declared.

 He drew the pillow up to his shoulders, rolling over. He was going to confess, come hell or high water.

 

-

 

Lance bounced his leg restlessly all through breakfast, not so subtly watching Keith eating and conversing across the table with Shiro and Allura. Occasionally Pidge would join in and Keith would laugh. The pillow was still there in his usual spot, though with much less care than before. Keith didn't bother to seat it up right properly on the chair, Lance noticed. He ate off of Hunk’s plate as he watched the group converse.

 “No news for us today, Lance?” Shiro asked.

 Keith's pissy look didn't go unnoticed. Lance smiled anyway with a shrug.

 “Not unless you want a complete rundown on my face care routine,” Lance said around a bite of purple alien bacon.

 “Actually….that would be nice,” Hunk said. “Pidge is getting dark circles again.”

 “Well _Hunk_ isn't moisturizing enough. His hands feel like scales,” Pidge shot back.

 “None of you are,” Lance joked. “Shiro should start using my face masks again.”

 Shiro threw his biscuit at Lance, smirking when Lance yelped. Keith snickered getting a biscuit to the face from Shiro, too; He laid a hand to his chest in offense. Lance laughed, leaning against Hunk who was shaking with laughter. Pidge picked up the biscuit that had hit Keith and ate it, slapping his hands away when he tried to take something from her plate. Lance buried his face further against Hunk’s arm, slim fingers coming to grab his friend’s thick bicep.

 Across from them, Keith smiled into his cup of tea.

 

-

 

Any and all attempts to get Keith's attentions were thwarted. Whether due to daily training or Keith effectively side-stepping him during breaks, Lance was ready to tear his hair out. Still, at least now Keith was looking over at his shoulder at him when he said his name. He looked thoughtful.

They interacted well enough for team exercises. It didn't surprise Lance how much he missed hearing Keith say his name _at_ him, much less feel the bump of their armors pressed together as they stood back to back deflecting laser shots.

When Lance lost his footing, Keith had quickly grabbed him by the forearm, pulling him up and close. They had locked eyes, the world spinning to a slow motion stop. Lance inhaled, wanting to reach out. His eyes snapped to the bot raring for an attack and drew his gun up, shooting it point blank over Keith’s shoulder, fully trusting Keith to keep him supported. They swung around each other, shields brandished and made quick work of the remaining training bots.

Keith's hand touched his back, a quiet “good job” following, before he was walking over towards Hunk and Pidge.

Lance smiled to himself. He stumbled forward as Shiro slapped him on the back, then ruffled his hair, praising him.

Belatedly, he realized the pillow was nowhere to be seen.

 

-

 

Keith was just dropping the pillow haphazardly, more out of habit now, onto the couch when Lance had busted into the living room. He held up the gamebox for the racing game, waving it erratically.

“Oh, no no no, Mullet,” Lance said, voice getting louder. “We're gonna settle this once and for all.”

Lance launched himself over the back of the couch, behind falling onto the pillow. Keith stood there with his arms crossed, a pensive, considering expression on his face.

“Play this one round with me. If I win, you gotta hear my apology out. If you win, I won't force you to talk to me unless you really want to. Deal?”

“Or I could keep ignoring you just the same until I feel like it,” Keith said.

Lance’s face shuttered down. True, Keith could.

“Why? Are you scared to lose, Keith? You beat me last time. I've been practicing, you don't stand a chance,” Lance quipped, hoping it would bug Keith.

“I could beat you with my eyes closed, McClain,” Keith said.

“Do you want to make that part of the challenge?” Lance blurted.

“No! Go away, Lance.”

“Come on. One game, that's it. I swear on the space mice, Keith. Come on, Keith, for the mice!”

Keith's mouth twitched, eyes narrowing. Lance grinned.

“ _One_ game. I'm decking you if you piss yourself when you lose this time,” He said.

Lance whooped, patting the space next to him. Keith took the floor instead, huffing.

The game booted up, Lance clicking through the starting screen. Lance configured it for one game, all special items included. They chose their usual racers. They sat in silence as the game loaded.

 The dramatic pre-race music began to play, surveying each car. It circled around before settling behind Lance and Keith's cars. The countdown began.

  _Go!_ The game yelled.

 Lance and Keith's racers screeched out of the starting line. They dove in and out of the pack of racers, neck and neck for the lead. Lance’s racer bounced Keith's. Then Keith was pulling head.

Lance squawked, wrenching his controller up as he barely missed a split in the road, hot on Keith's tale. Lance could practically feel Keith's smirk even if he couldn't see it.

They passed the halfway mark, rolling through a rickety wooden bridge towards the kinetic spring. They wove around it like a giant funnel, both racers flying through its sprouting water, Keith first then Lance.

 They landed heavily, ground already beginning the crumble. Lance’s knuckles went white. They powered forward. Lance counted to three, and right on cue the beast rose up out of the ground, screaming. It hurtled boulders at them, both just missing them. The translucent ramp appeared.

 Sucking in a breath, Lance zigzagged his controller. He took the ramp at an angle as Keith shot straight forward.  Lance skimmed the beast’s jaws; Keith gasped. Grazing past, Lance landed just 2 seconds ahead of Keith. Jamming on the accelerator, Lance crossed the finish line. Keith came across a second later.

 _WINNER_ the game flashed. It paraded Lance’s racer around as the results rolled.

Everything was quiet. Lance looked to Keith, throat tight. The other boy didn't look at him. Lance cleared his throat.

 “Keith,” Lance started. “Dude, can you look at me a sec?”

 Keith turned, looking at Lance. His expression was unreadable.

 “Keith, I'm sorry. I've always been really jealous of you. It wasn't right for me to take it out on you,” Lance began, breathing. “I actually really look up to you, so I'm much harder on myself when I can't reach your level. It was just easier to blame you.”

 “It still doesn't excuse how I treated you, or what I said. I'm really sorry,” Lance said.

 Keith's eyes widened. His shoulders sagged, trying to process all of Lance’s words. He opened his mouth a few times, before shutting it again.

 “You - you look up to me?” Keith said. “Really?”

 Lance rubbed the back of his neck, face beginning to turn red. He looked away, lacing his fingers together and fiddling with them nervously.

 “Well, yeah. I've _always_ looked up to you. Especially back at the Garrison. I was so amazed the first time you flew. I only ever wanted you to look at me,” Lance admitted.

 “Dumbass,” Keith said. but not unkindly. “There's nothing to be jealous about. You have your own thing and you're good at it. You're the best shot out of all of us. There's no one like you. Besides, I'm looking at you now, right?”

 “Keith, buddy, you don't get it. I literally had the hardest time taking my eyes off you back then. Like, do you know how cool you are? You're super cool. And this is coming from me, the guy whose lion shoots ice beams,” Lance continued.

 Keith grinned a little cheeky, a twinkle in his eye. “You think I'm cool?”

 Lance threw his hands up. “ You're missing the point! Yeah, I think you're cool! I literally have the hardest time _not_ thinking about you and your dumb mullet.”

 Keith blinked.

 Lance screwed this mouth shut if only to will away the urge to cover his face with his hands.

 “Well, anyway,” Lance began again awkwardly. “You forgive me right? No more pillow?”

 “Yeah, we're cool. No more pillow,” Keith agreed.

 “I don't know why you ever bothered carrying that thing around when you had the real thing right here,” Lance blurted.

 Keith froze, Lance froze, and the only noise between them was the game music jingling. Lance’s mouth went dry. He stood up quickly, ramrod straight, throwing Keith off guard who nearly fell backwards.

 Lance began speaking too fast. “Well, glad we had this bonding moment, Keithy, but I really gotta go. Let's just forget that last bit and move on from here -”

 “No, wait, wait, wait,” Keith said, grabbing Lance by the hand. “What did you say?”

 “I'm glad we had this bonding moment?”

 “Before that.”

 “I think you're cool?”

 “After that.”

 Lance swallowed audibly. “Uh”

Keith snorted through his nose. He took Lance’s hand in both of his and tugged him to sit beside him on the floor. He put both hands on Lance’s shoulders with enough leeway to let Lance bolt if he really was too nervous to continue.

“If I didn't know better...I’d think you liked me, Lance,” Keith said slowly.

Lance didn't reply. He glanced back at the body pillow grinning, rumbled but cheeky back at him. Maybe he had overthought this hell or highwater scenario. He could feel the roughness of Keith's gloves on his shoulders through the thin material of his shirt.

“What did you really mean?” Keith asked gently.

Lance felt his heartbeat in his ears, his whole face burning and his shirt sticking to his back. Keith rubbed a thumb just at the base of his neck where it joined his shoulder.

“Ilikeyou.”

Keith blinked rapidly, leaning in closer. “What??”

Lance’s hands flew up to grab Keith's, jumbling their arms together.

“ILIKEYOU.”

 A slow smile worked its way over Keith's face, a little dimple at his cheek. He tilted his head, bangs falling over an eye. Lance wanted to scream.

 “What was that? You like me?” Keith asked. It didn't sound like a question.

 Lance sputtered, shoving his hands in Keith's face. Keith laughed, pressing his nose to Lance’s palm. He pried Lance’s hands away with one of his own, leaning into his palm. He grinned.

 “You _like_ me,” Keith repeated.

 He pulled Lance forward so that the other boy was resting his face against Keith's neck. Lance pressed his forehead in, rubbing his burning cheek against Keith’s neck. Lance’s hands bunched into his shirt, curling himself against him to try and burrow away from his embarrassment. Lance thumped a gentle fist against Keith's chest, grumbling. Keith laughed, breathless and happy.

 “You like me - and I like you,” Keith said.

Keith pulled Lance’s face away from his neck for a moment to press his lips to his forehead. Lance’s bangs were growing out, he had noticed. Lance shifted up until he could knock their foreheads together.

He huffed a breath through his nose. Keith could still see the rosy hue of his blush at the top of his cheeks.

“Shut up and kiss me properly, Keith,” Lance grumbled.

Keith tilted his head down and did.

**Author's Note:**

> Spot the Treasure Planet reference.
> 
> I honestly meant to keep this silly but then Langst happened. I tried to add in some family dynamics/bonding in the background.
> 
> Shiro’s daki magically makes it way into Allura’s room without any noticing :3c
> 
> A super special thanks to @warmybones and @creepofish for encouraging me and helping me out through the entire process! I love you guys <3
> 
> original here--> http://cheshire-ree.tumblr.com/post/156728728878/replaced


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